Breakdowns in Broom Sheds
by Laury the Latrator
Summary: "Have I ever told you I once ate three live worms?" / Harry, still grieving his Godfather's death, finds himself with a companion he gratefully accepts. / Set pre-romance in the summer of the HBP. Sequel to my fic VPA but can be read alone.


_Really?_ Harry asked himself sarcastically as he felt the tears roll down his face. _I thought I was past this._

While it was true he'd spent most of the summer after fifth year holed up in his room and crying sporadically, he had made the conscious decision not to let his grief rule his life anymore. Sirius would want him to enjoy himself, after all. Moping didn't help anyone. He'd figured being back at the Burrow, where he'd always been the happiest (besides, perhaps, Hogwarts) and surrounded by his friends and surrogate family, would ease the acute sense of loss in his chest.

Harry had only been there a day and he was already blubbering like an idiot in their shed. How's that for progress?

Resolving to stop this nonsense and compose himself, he blinked around the dark room. He hadn't really looked around in here before, not even last night when Dumbledore dropped him off and they'd had that private meeting. Sunlight streamed through the numerous cracks in the planks, illuminating small strips while the rest was left in shadows. This was where the Weasleys kept their racing brooms and obviously had for years. There were notches above two of the oldest ones where someone inexperienced had carved the names BILL and CHARLI. There was undoubtedly a story behind why that E was never finished and the subsequent labels were written on Spellotape. Fred and George's were missing, probably at the joke shop. Ron's Cleansweep, the new one he'd gotten last year, hung proudly and shinily (apparently his friend had placed it's maintenance in the highest priority). There was a fine layer of dust covering everything (except, of course, the Cleansweep), and Harry guessed Mrs. Weasley didn't apply her usual work ethic here. It also appeared that she used it as a regular garden shed while her children were away, as it was littered with tools and empty bags of seeds. It smelled funny too, musty and a bit like manure. It was not the most dignified place to be larking about.

Oddly enough, the last time he'd sat in that shed, he'd gotten misty eyed too. Maybe the small space was especially conductive to break downs.

No. He sniffed, his grip tightening around the handle. It wasn't the shed. It was his broom. His Firebolt. The broom his Godfather had sent him in third year, before they'd even met. He'd been awed. It was the first time anyone (besides the Weasleys) had done so much simply to show they cared. To show that he was loved. It had been the most wonderful feeling in the world for the (previously) neglected 13 year old.

Now that love was gone.

Harry'd entered with the intention of grabbing the broom and finding the others to suggest a game of Quidditch, but somehow once his hand had grasped the wood he'd frozen. The memories and emotions flooded through him. He'd barely felt himself fall back onto the overturned flower pot he was now using as a chair, lost in his misery as he was.

This had to stop. It must've been fifteen minutes, twenty maybe, since he'd gotten there. They'd start to notice he was missing soon. This was dangerous. Mrs. Weasley would send someone to look for him eventually. He had to pull himself together. The last thing he needed was Ron walking in, or Hermione, or Fred or George, or—

"Oh!" Harry blinked through watery eyes at the figure standing haloed in the doorway. To his horror, Ginny was staring down at him with a look of shock to rival his own. They stared at each other in silence before she whispered, "Sorry," bringing him to his senses. Mortified, he quickly wiped at the tear tracks on his face in the vain hope she hadn't noticed. His heart beat violently as he waited for something, anything to happen. Dear Merlin this was awkward.

He felt, rather than saw, her draw closer, closing the rickety door softly behind her. He kept his gaze averted as she sat across from him on a discarded wooden crate. Neither spoke. It felt like hours were passing in that broom shed, though it could only have been minutes. Harry watched fascinated as a tiny black spider started crawling up her arm. It walked slowly, carefully, _meticulously_, up the pale expanse of skin, never pausing to investigate a freckle or two, with a singular purpose in its' minuscule mind. He wondered if he was allowed to reach out and pluck it. Perhaps he would save her from (according to Ron at least) 'the foulest creature to ever plague humanity'. He was still debating when it clambered over the hem of her blouse and he had to speak up.

"Er," His voice broke and he coughed before trying again. "There's a, um, a bug, a spider, on your sleeve, right there." Ginny turned her head in time to see the insect crest her shoulder. To his surprise she smiled and extended a finger in front of it. It stopped, considering the object blocking its' path, before decisively stepping onto her nail. She moved, holding it at eye level to idly inspect the traveler.

"I don't mind bugs, and I'm definitely not like Ron. Or Phlegm, for that matter." Her tone was light, as if she hadn't found him crying in her dilapidated old shed and they were instead simply having a nice conversation over the breakfast table. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the spider making its' way across her hand. Silence descended quickly and stiflingly like the Dementor's fog that blanketed England nowadays. It was deafening, like the calm after a massive explosion.

"Have I ever told you I once ate three live worms?" She asked suddenly. Harry finally managed to look up. Patches of her hair gleamed in the cracks of light. One beam slanted over her eye, giving it that rich warm honey color he'd always liked. There was a new smattering of freckles along her nose he hadn't noticed earlier. She looked uneven, messy, and a little bit mad and he found it charming. She wore a carefully neutral expression as he took his time in responding, and seemed to be chewing the inside of her cheek.

"No," Harry replied croakily, "I didn't know that."

"Yeah. Ron managed two before he was sick, but George did four and Fred got to five and a half." She stated matter-of-factly.

Despite himself, he asked, "And a half?"

"That's what he said anyway. Claimed he bit through the last one but it still counted." She smirked and Harry found himself, incredibly, smiling in return. Seeing this, Ginny grinned in a very satisfied way.

It continued like this, her sharing funny anecdotes and him feeling slightly better with each story. He couldn't believe some of the things he'd missed. He'd never known Ginny beat the other Gryffindors in her year when they had an impromptu contest to see who could go farthest into the Forbidden Forest. Or that when she was six she jumped off the very top of the Burrow and managed to cast a Cushioning Charm on her way down. Or about the time she'd hit Percy in the back of the head with a gnome she'd been trying to toss and had henceforth been banned from de-gnoming. Or that after years of compensating for the leftward tilt of Bill's broom, when she had her first flying lesson at Hogwarts she careened right into a wall. He even started laughing when she described the hex she used on a particularly lecherous sixth year.

"I swear his bum was purple for weeks!" She finished earnestly. "And don't ask how I know that, I wouldn't want to corrupt your sensitive noble ears."

"How," Harry choked through his snickering, not minding the slight at all, "How did you even come up with that?"

"Well, Dad had shown me those bizarre muggle toys, the, uh, wind-up chomping teeth?" He nodded with another round of chuckles. "The concept basically worked itself out. Teach him to pinch us, I did!" Ginny crossed her arms, beaming proudly at the memory.

"Good going, Gin." He said honestly, and somehow the atmosphere shifted.

He was supposed to be sad. No, no that was wrong, he _should_ be happy. But… how was it possible that he could feel good when just a few minutes ago he'd been moping again? Was his mourning that transient? His feelings for his beloved Godfather so fleeting? Or were his feelings for Ginny just stronger?

_What feelings?_ Harry cut in, swiftly derailing that train of thought,_ I haven't got feelings for her, she's Ron's sister_. Who, he realized with a jolt of embarrassment, was staring at him.

"Er, where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked as he self-consciously shifted on the flower pot. "Won't they notice we've gone?"

"I suggested Ron take Hermione on a walk around the lake," She replied flatly and continued without a trace of sarcasm, "You know how they are, they'll either end up bickering or snogging. Either way they'll be occupied for some time."

"Right." He said, staring at his hands. A moment of silence ensued once more.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Ginny's voice was quiet, tentative, yet inviting. Clearly they weren't talking about their friends' weird infatuation anymore. He met her gaze.

Strangely enough, Harry did want to confide in her. But that didn't make sense. He'd barely discussed his grief with his best friends. They had enough going on with the Prophecy, he didn't want to burden them further. And he didn't want their pity. He had to be strong with them. But with Gin… it felt different. He knew, looking into her eyes, that she _wanted_ him to let his guard down. She was welcoming of whatever weakness he might unload on her. It was enticing, the freedom she offered. It frightened him.

His mouth was already halfway open when he switched tracks. "Do you think I could be a murderer?" Tumbled out in his panic, surprising her momentarily before she composed herself. It obviously wasn't what she expected (perceptive girl, that one) but she seemed to take it in stride.

"What do you mean?" Harry squirmed. This really wasn't a better topic at all.

"I've never really thought about… killing Voldemort," While he remembered she'd started saying his name last year, he couldn't help but be proud when she didn't flinch, "It's always been about staying alive while _he_ came after me. The alternative never really registered before."

"You've grown up," She commented, a dark edge to her words, "And the situation has changed. He's out in the open, he's got his army on the move, it's all out war now." He shivered at the harsh truths coming from someone he'd always viewed as innocent.

"I…" He sighed, deliberating whether to confess this next bit. "I thought about it, and… I don't think I've ever wanted anyone dead. I'm not sure if I could." His statement hung in the air, and Harry wondered if this was too much, if her compassion had run out in the face of his cowardice.

"You're not alone in that," She said softly, and he marveled at the nervous twisting of her hands (the spider tumbling along with them looking very disoriented). "You know how I am, I've been trying my whole life to prove that I'm a fighter, that when the time comes I'll be ready and take out as many Death Eaters as I can. I have to convince Mum and Dad, my brothers, you," She trailed off, but he hardly noticed. His mind was whirling with images of Ginny in the Department of Mysteries, obliterating shelves with the best Reductor curse he'd seen, egging Luna on as they fled, carrying on the fight with a broken ankle, getting hit, falling limply to the floor…

"Sometimes I worry if I'll be letting them down," She continued, startling him out of his memories, "Letting myself down really, if I don't… well… kill. But… I can't bear the thought. I remember how it feels to be responsible for someone's pain, and I know it will be so very much worse to take a life. I think… I will do it when I have to, but I'm dreading that day, believe me. I know though, no matter what, that this is war; the expectations are different, and the stakes higher." She paused, weighing her words. "Of course, it'll be harder for you, what with all this Chosen One business. I expect that adds a lot of pressure."

Suddenly Harry was overcome with a wave of guilt. He hadn't even thought to tell Ginny about the Prophecy, or Dumbledore's proposed lessons, or any of it really. It was always Ron and Hermione that got involved in his nonsense.

_Not anymore_, a voice whispered in his mind, _she and Neville and Luna were at the Department of Mysteries, they're just as caught up in the danger as you are_.

_Dumbledore wanted this secret_, he countered.

_Don't you trust Ginny_, it replied malevolently, _isn't she your friend too? There isn't any harm letting just one more person in, is there?_. Harry didn't know what to say to that, except he was certain there was quite a lot of harm, though to whom, he wasn't sure. He started to speak, whether to divulge the truth or apologize for being unable to, before she stopped him.

"No, don't say anything. It doesn't matter." She was firm and, even though he thought she didn't know enough to make that decision, he stayed silent. Her eyes softened as they surveyed his features. "I'm not naive. I understand there are things bigger than me, things I don't know and probably never will. It's okay. I know enough, and what I don't, I can guess at." Here the honey-brown danced with levity. "More importantly, I also know it doesn't matter what title you hold, you're still going to be the same scar-headed git taking on the world."

"Er… thanks?" He watched as she struggled not to laugh.

"It's true!" She exclaimed, voice and shoulders shaking with the effort of repressing her mirth.

"You're very… odd." He told her seriously which only made her burst into full out giggles.

"Sorry," Ginny told him after she'd calmed down a bit, "I am a tad odd I suppose. But then this is an odd world, isn't it? Maybe I've got no other choice." The conversation stilled. She was the one looking sombre this time, and Harry didn't know what to do. He wiped a hand under his glasses, feeling the dried residue of his tears. Had it really only been a couple of minutes ago that he'd been crying?

"Would you want to play some Quidditch? It's, er, why I came in here in the first place." He added, gesturing with his Firebolt uselessly. She bit her lip and as he darted his gaze away from the tantalizing action he realized that spider from earlier had disappeared. He wondered if it scuttled under her blouse and traveled through uncharted territory, then shut his eyes tightly as he registered what an inappropriate thing to think about that was.

"It's alright, you know," Her voice broke through his guilty reprimanding and there was a wild moment when he thought she was referring to his fantasies. "To mourn him." Oh. Sirius. Of course they would get around to talking about this.

"I know, I," He sighed, closing his eyes again, "I am."

"Good." She said simply. There was quiet.

"I miss him though," He added finally, and he was proud of how steady he was, "I've never missed anyone so much, not even summer after first year, not even when he had to go on the run. Not even… my parents. I-I didn't know them well enough to miss them, really. It's weird…"

"It isn't, not really." She replied. "I miss him too, you know." Harry observed her then, noticing a far away look in her eyes that he imagined he'd worn since June. "I made good friends with him and Tonks during my summer there," Ginny continued, "Everything was so uncertain what with moving and the Order and Diggory's… I couldn't sleep. The first night, after much tossing and turning, I finally got up and tiptoed out into the hall. I decided I would explore this new place we'd be living in for a while. I didn't get far, I was just passing the parlor when Sirius stuck his head out and stared at me. Now mind, I'd only just learned he wasn't actually a raving lunatic, and to be fair he wasn't exactly tame looking, so naturally the first thing I wondered was if he was going to skin me alive for wandering about his house. But of course, he just smiled and said he was glad I wasn't my mother and invited me in for some Firewhiskey." The two shared a reminiscent smirk; it sounded exactly like something Sirius would do. "Tonks was there most nights. Sometimes Lupin joined in as well, though he never let me drink, the fuddy-duddy." She added fondly, making Harry laugh. When the sound of his joy had faded, she added in a softer tone of voice, "I know everyone is probably going to tell you this in time, and please forgive the cliche, but Sirius really loved you. I think… remembering you and imagining who you'd grow up to be really saved him in Azkaban. He said once, that you'd exceeded his expectations. He was very proud. You could hear it in his voice whenever you were mentioned."

Harry gulped, averting his gaze. He did not hesitate this time.

"There were times when I wished I'd followed him through the veil." The shed grew still. He doubted even the insects were breathing. Then he heard the rustle that meant Ginny had stood, and quickly looked up. Her face was more open and vulnerable than he'd seen since second year. Her eyes shone with sadness. It was both strange and beautiful to see her so undone.

"I'm glad you didn't." She told him in that easily poised way of hers. Harry smiled. She offered him a hand which he took, hoisting himself off the flower pot. They faced each other there, only a foot apart in that cramped space. He was still smiling softly down at her. Her hand was still warm in his. Anticipation grew.

"Quidditch?" He asked, breaking the tension without knowing why. Ginny grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. This turned out longer than I thought it would. I... I really like it!<strong>

**So, a couple of things. I know that in the beginning of the sixth book Harry's sort of resolved to be strong and not let Sirius' death control his life. He has all those other things to think about like the Prophecy and whatnot. But what I'm trying to show here is that with Ginny, he doesn't have to put a brave face on, she doesn't want him to. Harry, used to being the noble hero, is uncertain how to react to that incredibly inviting offer and therefore is scared of opening up.**

**I also don't think he sees the Prophecy and the 'Chosen One' stuff as all that important. He's always been fighting Voldemort so he's a bit used to it. Although, as Dumbledore will say later, murder rips the soul apart, and Harry will be naturally adverse to that.**

**As for Ginny, it is canon that by the Sixth book's end she can say Voldemort without flinching (she uses it after Harry breaks up with her), and I have her say it for the first time in my other fic, _Voldemort Possessions Anonymous_. And as for the Ginny, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks talks, I just thought it would be really cute to have her join in with the adults occasionally, and we know how close she is to Tonks so I figured I'd give them bonding time. I'm considering writing about those nights, would people be interested if I posted them?**

**As always, I live for your opinions and constructive criticisms. Did you like the dialogue? The descriptions? The plot? Tell me please and I guarantee you will have brightened my day.**

**Ever faithful and fangirly,**

**Laury.**

**UPDATE: A third installment to this weird little series is up, entitled _Starlight and Bright Brown_ Eyes. It takes place immediately after they get kiss for the first time and I hope you enjoy it.**


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